Out of the corner of her eye, Mary could see Frank’s smirk flickering every time she gripped the mustang’s leather seat cushion. He liked to see her gasp and squirm at things, like an object that amused him, or perhaps endeared him. As they drove twenty miles over the speed limit on a midafternoon mountain road, Mary couldn’t care less why he smirked. Instead, every time she saw it, it reaffirmed a conclusion she’d been entertaining for a year:
It was time to end thing with Frank.
Their five years together, her second long term after–No. She wouldn’t think of Roger and everything she threw away. Not today, not right now, not with the determination finally fueling a fire in her veins. Thoughts of him, of her poor decisions…. No. She clenched her fist against the seat again. Right on cue, there was Frank’s smirk.
As soon as they parked this car. It was over.